


So close

by soulhead



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Angst, Loneliness, M/M, Self-Esteem Issues, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:08:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27176353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulhead/pseuds/soulhead
Summary: Lando is too much for Max to handle. He's too gentle, too lighthearted, too geeky, too pretty, too cheeky, too cute, too supportive.He's too much of everything to the point all of the adjectives Max could think of to describe him lost their meaning.  He just knows he can't ever possibly match that, because Max  himself is not enough of anything.Or : A soulmate AU where a soulmark appears engraved on the skin of every human between their 17th and 21th anniversary and in rare cases, much earlier. Once someone touches their soulmate, their soulmark completes itself. The rest is up to each pair of soulmate to figure it out.
Relationships: Lando Norris/Max Verstappen
Comments: 26
Kudos: 172





	1. Chapter 1

«I'm never going to get my soulmark at this rate...» Lando complains to him one day, while they both watch absentmindedly the ever-changing lights projected on the roof of the hotel built around the Yas Marina racetrack.

It catches Max off-guard. Seconds before, they weren't even talking, just enjoying the quiet corner of the terrace they found on a nameless bar in Abu Dhabi. And Max (even if he's never going to admit it) was busy drinking in the sight of the distant spotlights projecting a vivid and enticing red tint on Lando's lips.

«Don't say that, you've still got plenty of time to get it !» Alex says as he tries to comfort his now morose-looking friend, reminding Max at the same time it's not just him and Lando on that terrace.

Lando doesn't seem satisfied by that answer, a small pout appearing on his face as his shoulders sag «But I don't want to wait anymore...I want to meet my soulmate. Like _now_.»

«Aw, you want to be part of the big boys club, uh ?» Alex retorts.

«Shut up !» Lando bites back, lightly hitting him on his shoulder.

«Don't worry about this Lando, alright ? When the time will come, you'll get your soulmark.» Alex tries to reassure him a bit more sincerely once again. For his part, Max stays quiet, his heart beating ever more rapidly in his chest at the thought of his soulmate.

«You already met yours, it's easy for you to say that !»

A gentle smile appears on Alex at the mention. «That's why I'm telling you that. » he tells serenely.

Lando grumbles in answer, sipping on the strong drink Alex coerced him into ordering and he now grimaces each time the alcoholic tastes touches his lips.

Max tries to hide the small smile that tilts the corner of his lips upward at Lando's obstinacy to finish his drink, even if he's been painfully nursing it for the past hour when Alex and he are already on their third.

For a moment, the three boys remain silent, all tired after this one last Grand-Prix that marks the end of their season.

«And you Max ? What do you think ?» Lando asks softly with a tint of hesitation in his voice as he catches Max absentmindedly grazing his right hand over his left forearm, where his own soulmark is engraved.

«Uhm ? I- Well..» He marks a pause, fiddling with his own empty glass «I think that we've all got enough to worry about as of now without losing too much time over soulmates...» he stutters in a rush.

A big sigh escapes Lando's lips «You're both so lucky and yet all you do is complain ! This is not fair !»

On instinct, Max feels the need to put his hand on Lando stiff shoulder and to try to appease him.

«Ah, come on Lando, don't hurt your brain over it, finish my plate instead.» he proposes as he hands his small tray of appetizers.

«Really ?» Lando's entire face instantly lightens up as if Max just offered him the solution to all his problems «Dude, I love you !»

To that, Max's cheeks redden up instantly while he watches Lando enthusiastically gobbles up the the plate.

Then, from the corner of his eyes he catches Alex scrutinizing him with a strange knowing look.

«What ?» he grunts.

«Nothing.» his teammate answers innocently as a small smile tilts the corner of his lips. Obvious to their small exchange, Lando finishes his last appetizers before yawning and letting his head rests on the railing of the terrace's barrier.

«Alright, I think I'm going to lead him back to his room, it's bed time for you, uh Lando?» Max says as he poses his hand on Lando's left shoulder.

Quickly, they part ways with Alex and begin a long walk through what feels like kilometers of hallways. Once in the elevator, Lando rests his head against Max shoulder and close his eyes . Max smiles fondly at the sleepy and peaceful expression of his friend he sees reflecting in the elevator's mirror. Their ascension seems to last for hours under the soft light and strangely, Max ponders that he doesn't know a lot of other people he's this comfortable with. In insight, he realizes Lando is the only one he shares this sense of intimacy where a shared silence still manage to bring him a deep, warm sense of comfort.

Feeling a growing ache in his left forearm, he tries to sooth it by rearranging his sleeve and massaging it. He's startled to hear a small ding signaling they've finally reached their destination.

«Alright, Cinderella it's your floor.» he announces as he softly shakes Lando shoulder. The younger driver only grumbles tiredly in answer, pretending to be deeply asleep.

With a resigned sigh on his face, Max pulls Lando's arms and lead him to his hotel room.

After a short walk, they arrive in front of his room and wish each other a good night, Lando mumbling more than he speaks with eyes already half closed.

«Thank you for being my friend, Max.» Lando adds just when Max starts to go back to his room.

«Ah, well-» he chuckles «You know what, this one drink probably was a bit too strong for you, go drink a big glass of water for me before going to sleep, you lightweight !»

«Mmmh, see you tomorrow...» Lando agrees distractingly before entering his room slowly and closing softly the door behind him.

Now left alone in an empty hallway, Max notices how the skin on his forearm feels almost scalding hot and he knows he can already expect a restless night of sleep for himself.

***

Long before their conversation of this evening, before Alex even got his soulmark, Max's own one appeared prematurely on his body. It took the form of a small cloud that floated around his forearm. Objectively speaking, his soulmark isn't the most unique he's ever seen. In front of his father, he even makes sure to appear as aloof as possible when the topic comes up during their rare discussions that do not resolve around racing. 

He really couldn't care less about a small tattoo tying him to some random girl or boy for the rest of his life. His career is more important. At least, that's what he tells his father as he ignores the sour taste those words leave on his mouth.

The truth is that behind closed door, when no one is looking, he can't ever resist admiring his soulmark. The little cloud looks delicate almost fragile, with curves and spirals in its inside and a golden tint tainting its surface. And he adores the simplicity of it.

How could he not, when his heart seems to grow just twice his usual size at the simple sight of this little cloud that engraved itself on his skin permanently. His body almost always reacts in a mechanical way, his heart jamming in his chest and his breath shortening progressively the more his eyes drinks on every single details he can see. _Will it feel the same when his eyes will lay for the first time on his soulmate ?_ He often found himself wondering while he daydreamed.

From the tips of his fingers, he often finds himself following the outline of the small cloud, enthralled by it. And each time, he swears his skin becomes a little bit warmer at the touch of his floating soulmark. 

And as time pass, Max quickly realizes his soulmark almost has with a will on its own. He doesn't ask around if its supposed to be this way, but this little link between him and his soulmate seems particularly intent to communicate with him.

Sometime the small cloud seemed to choose to play with him, pretending to have disappeared when the small drawing has simply decided to hide himself on the crook of his forearm or in between his fingers. On his dark days, when his father is putting too much pressure on him, the small cloud ventures to the palm of his hand to tickle him, as if to say «Hey, I'm there. Don't worry !». 

And early on, he starts to realizes that he needs to work on himself. There will come a time where he'll meet a person just as light and playful as that little fragment of his soulmate engraved on his skin. _And on that day, he wants to be ready_. He wants to welcome this person with an open smile on his face instead of the constant closed off expression he wears on most days. He wants to start saying the right thing at the right time, instead of doing always the opposite and being avoided by half of his fellow rivals. He ~~wants~~ needs to be better.

Against his father's advice, he forms tentative friendship with some of his rivals and for a while, he manages to gets out of his own shell. He tackles his growing insecurities like a training plan his coach would give him. Each time he makes an effort to smile a little bit more, to indulge someone in small talks, it feels like a successful practice session.

Yet, when he reaches his seventeenth birthday and he debuts Toro Rosso, his progress is put to a halt. His universe seems to be just him and his soulmark against the world. No time is left for him to do anything but focus on his driving. His father brings him from one racetrack to another, makes him shakes hands with new potential sponsors, Red Bull representatives and countless other people. It comes to the point where his head constantly feels like it's spinning with the thought of racing, racing and racing.

And then, by the end of the year, the most important meeting of his life takes place.

  
  


***

End of the year Gala are a continual nightmare, Max laments as his press officer leads him through a vast reception room to pose with the winner of a junior category before the start of yet another official ceremony organized by the FIA. Was it the F4 champion or the F3 ? he wonders.

His press officer is already gone before he can ask that question outloud and he's left grumbling to himself as the journalist in front of him goes looking for his missing camera.

«Hi !» a younger teen says, almost bouncing on his legs as he approaches him «I'm Lando ! This is so cool to meet you ! » 

«Oh, ehrm- thank you ?» he answers awkwardly, trying to remember to muster a small smile and match the easiness of the younger driver.

For a moment, they start chatting and without understanding how, he finds himself into a laid-back and easy discussion about the upcoming Call of Duty game. Here and there, Lando still discreetly asks him a dozen of questions about his debut in F1, seeming almost ready to take out a white sheet of paper to scribble down each answer Max gives him. The young driver exults an endearing energy and Max finds himself not minding answering him in details. There's a endearing light behind his eyes, almost like if they are ready to burst with stars as he listens to Max awkwardly describe his final lap in the race he just finished on a podium a few days ago. 

«Alright boys, a handshake for the picture and a smile please !» the voice of the photographer in front of them interrupts them.

Just as his hand clamps Lando's and the light of the camera's flash blinds both of them, a flare suddenly erupts in his left arm and for a moment, Max mistakes it for nothing more than a cramp. 

«Are you alright ?» 

And as Max looks into Lando's worried eyes and the pain finally smoothen, it dawns on him that the sudden burst of pain he felt is localized exactly where his soulmark is. His stomach twists up almost painfully at the realization. 

«Yeah, just sore, sorry.» he manages to croak out, his entire mind screaming at him to lift his left sleeve to check his soulmark. _Lando should have reacted like him, grasping his soulmark too_. _It really must be only a cramp_ , he tries to rationalize. 

«How old are you by the way ?» 

«Fifteen !» Lando answers with a bright smile.

 _Ah, so not even old enough to have his own soulmark_ , he ponders. 

«You want to sit down at my table for the ceremony ?» Lando interrupts his train of thoughts, obvious to Max's trouble. 

«S-sure !» he answers awkwardly, tension running high in his limbs as he massages his forearm.

The rest of the prize ceremony pass in a haze, Max being stuck between the insouciant and cozy atmosphere Lando created at the table they settled in and feeling breathless and dizzy at the possibility he's talking to his soulmate.

Clueless as he is for now, he takes a few discreet long breathes and he focuses himself on getting to know Lando while the president of the FIA speaks on the main scene in front of them. 

And when Max comes back to his hotel room that night, it's with an almost painfully full stomach thanks to Lando who managed to convince him to sneak into the canteen's kitchen and devours an entire batch of pastries. He's lucky his father was absent at the race, otherwise he would never hear the end of it, he thinks as he giggles to himself. While he lets himself fall on his bed without bothering to get out of his clothes, he thinks back about his evening. He's almost unsettled by how Lando didn't seem fazed by his seemingly aloof appearance, but it's a nice surprise. A small pleasant sense of pride appears at the pit of his stomach, pleased to notice how he's becoming better at making friends. 

Under the warm comfy sheet of his bed, he's about to fall asleep when his eyes flies open as he remembers the weird thing that happened as he touched Lando's hand. 

His heartbeat doubles as he jumps out of bed and makes a bee line to his bathroom. Once he gets rid of his jacket, he's met with the sight of the same old soulmark, the little cloud floating almost happily around his forearm. 

Yet, his breath hitches when he notices on the crook of his elbow, a sun, swirling with flare of warm orange fire. He swallows difficultly as he struggles to realize what this all means.

Almost reverently, he grazes with the tip of his index finger the golden star. 

_It's just his_ _luck, isn't it ?_

Meeting his soulmate is supposed to be a life-altering encounter. Yet, Lando's gone back to his own hotel room and he's surely fast-asleep by now. And if he isn't, he's probably just thinking that he found another friend to play Call of Duty with on his weekends. 

Strangely, this idea brings him comfort and he feels himself able to breath a little easier than before. He's glad that Lando doesn't know yet what ties them together. He's not sure how he would have dealt with the disappointed frown that would have inevitably appeared on Lando's face. 

At that thought, a wave of icy cold washes over him. 

_Yeah_ , _it's better like that_ , he thinks. Being a constant source of disappointment to his father hurts already more than enough, he can wait a few more years until he's forced to face the mortification on his soulmate's face. 

Exhausted by all the thoughts swirling in his brain, he decides to go back to bed, hoping to be able to figure it all out in the morning. 

The sheets of his bed that seemed to radiate warmth minutes ago now seems to do nothing against the deep icy cold settling in his limbs. 

Instinctively, seconds before he falls asleep, his right hand grasps his left forearm, tracing the outline of his soulmark and bringing to him a tiny spark of warmth to carry him to sleep. 

*** 

The thing is, the more he learns about Lando, the more he becomes puzzled by the fact that the universe decided to pair them together.

Lando is too much for him to handle. 

He's _too friendly,_ he has been since the very first day they met. 

_Too easy-going_ for Max to stay far away from him whenever they kept crossing path afterwards. 

_Too endearing_ for him to pretend to be annoyed when he wakes up to a dozen of nonsensical messages Lando wrote him in the middle of the night. 

_Too supportive_ when there was not even one good lap Max completed on a shitty race and yet the first thing Max sees on his phone is a comforting message from Lando. 

If it was only that, Max would consider himself lucky enough, but every time they meet, Max seems to discover a new facet of his soulmate.

He's _too gentle_ , _too lighthearted_ , _too_ _geeky_ , _too_ _pretty, too cheeky_ , _too cute_. 

Too much of everything, to the point all of the adjectives Max could think of to describe him lost their meaning. He just knows he can't ever possibly match that, because Max knows he himself is _not enough_ of anything.


	2. Chapter 2

As much as he likes to whine to whoever is willing to lend him an ear about how he _can't_ wait to meet his soulmate, Lando knows he is luckier than most. Because in a sense, he already did meet him, even before he got his mark.

It's a secret he keeps for himself and himself only, as if sharing it with anyone else could potentially ruin it all. The thing is, he's been dreaming of resting in his soulmate's arms since he's fifteen. He doesn't even know if that phenomenon has ever been observed beforehand, if it's even possible. But frankly, he doesn't care.

Every night, for the past five years, his subconscious carried him to a room he's never been to physically, that he only ever saw him through his dreams and yet, he's learned to know every centimeters of it by heart.

Resting on his side, the first thing he always feel is the soothing sensation of his left hand's palm against the soft tissue of sheets he's never owned. And then, as his disorientation dissolves, he finally notices the securing weight of two arms encircling his middle and the warmth of someone's chest against his back.

And although Lando is sure his subconscious dreamed of far crazier things than simply waking up elsewhere, this dream is the only one he always remembers when he comes back to real life.

Since the very first time, Lando always had an inkling this one dream wasn't just like any others. Every thing around him felt too sharp, too real for his brain to muster it all up from his imagination : Outside of this foreign room, he could hear the sounds of waves crashing against a shore and in front of him, he could see the branch of a tree casting a shadow on the wall in front of him.

If it was only that, Lando wouldn't have paid much attention to this dream where nothing really ever happened. And even through he did not understand it immediately, there was no denying that he had become addicted to the almost a surreal comfort that inhabited him everytime he found himself in that bed. Inexplicably, it was as if cozied up in the arms of a man whose face he's never seen, nothing else mattered.

The first few times, he had tried to turn on his back to see the person whose arms encircled him, to see the face of the man he's linked with for a lifetime. Yet, everytime, he woke up just as he was about to see his soulmate's face.

Afterwards, he quickly learned to never give in the temptation to turn over and to just make this dream last as long as he could. There, lost in a seemingly insignificant dream, feeling the rise and fall of his soulmate's chest always seemed infinitely more important than anything else.

But then, this haven of peace he found every night disappeared entirely on the very same day his soulmark finally appeared on his forearm.

It's a day he tries to avoid thinking back about too much.

The thing is, he doesn't like to remember how he woke up one night, an excruciating pain flaring up in his left forearm. Panic had flooded in him when he feverishly made his way to his bathroom and desperately plunged his burning arm under cold water. He spent the next dozen of minutes waiting, trying to calm his frenzied heart as red, angry-looking scars appeared inexplicably on his forearm.

He was so, so lost back then. And yet, if only he had know that it was _just_ the beginning, he often finds himself musing ironically afterwards.

Perhaps, the worst memory of it all, the one he tries to forget the most about, is when the pain finally settled to a dull throbbing ache and he finally managed to examine his forearm.

Almost the entirety of the crook of his elbow was recovered by numerous little line of scar tissues. In the semi-darkness of his bathroom, he could see a strange, almost surreal soft gleam emitting from underneath the most scarred part of his elbow as if a sun burned underneath. Through the fog of dread that clogged his brain, he remembers how around him everything became still, almost suspended in time when he realized that he was looking at his soulmark.

And then, it felt as if all his air left his lungs and no word could ever transcribe accurately the absolute dread that seized his entire being.

 _This is not possible, this is not possible, this is not possible,_ he remembers repeating like a mantra as he slowly let himself slid down against the wall of his bathroom.

In a haze, he thought back of all the soulmarks he had seen : the little bundle of reeds that moves with the force of an invisible wind on Alex's arm, the couple of deers running together on both his parents forearm. Those are the first that came up in his mind then. Dozen of other images of those marks flashed through his mind afterwards. And if they all had one single trait in common, it was that they all were so beautiful, so vibrant and stunning.

And yet. The scars on his arm remain engraved on his skin, almost taunting him with how bleak and eerie they seemed to be.

The more Lando looked at them, the more they looked like someone had tried to cover his mark with scars. It didn't make sense. Soulmarks where something to be cherished so, so deeply. Why then, whenever he stared at his mark he could almost experience that deep foreign need to stare away from it, to remain in denial that he got his mark ? It almost didn't feel like this sentiment belonged to him and it scared him to think from whom this feeling might come from.

_Where is this sense of fulfillment, of peacefulness, of purpose ? Where is....everything that is supposed to come with looking at your own soulmark ? Is his soulmate alright ? Is it him, that altered his mark ? Is it even possible ? And if so, why, why would anyone do that?_

Those are the questions he asked himself, huddled up in the corner of his bathroom. And with each new question, it's like a new tornado was born in his mind.

Yet, no matter how his eyes sting since that night, he didn't cry. He refused to, even when his soulmark decided to act up and sends inexplicable flare of pain through his forearm. He _can't_ cry, he absolutely can't, because it's supposed to be one of the happiest moment of his life.

He still won't allow himself to cry even when weeks later, the emptiness, the sorrow he felt in the middle of that night as he looked for the first time at his mangled soulmark, all of those feelings cling to him...All those emotions remains inside him, bottled up in his heart.

They remain inside of him because he has no one else to share them with. Not as he is stuck in the middle of April in his house and he doesn't even dare to meet his family in fear of catching a virus and miss the first race of the season.

With no racing in sight for the upcoming months, he spends his days reading through thousands and thousands of pages on the internet, looking for anyone sharing a similar experience than him, to no avail. And when he has run out of pages to read, he starts ordering every single therapeutic scar creams he can get his hand on amazon. It's stupid, he knows it. But...It's all he can do at the moment. So, with trembling fingers and feather light touches, the first and last thing he does of his days is to tend to his mark. Every time, he hopes to wake up the following day, to see his scar healed and to be able to see the mark hidden underneath the scars.

It never happen, of course. Instead, he's left gazing at the soft light his mark emits and he wonders how radiant the sun underneath his scar tissue really is.

A week eventually comes to pass.

And another one too after that.

His list of questions grows, grows and grows exponentially with each days that pass.

Eventually, after a full month he feels like he's ready to turn mad over the numbers of questions spiraling in his head continuously, he decides to restart his computer to play some game, hoping to distract himself.

And as soon as he logs on to his discord account, he hears the distinctive bells of a requested incoming call.

«WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN ?» a familiar voice saturates his headset and startles him immediately after he accepts the call.

«Max my ears !» he hastily complains while he lowers the sound of his computer.

«Ah sorry...But where were you those past few weeks ? You haven't been answering any of my messages !»

«I-I needed some time off for myself, I think.» he cringes at his own vague lie as he plays with the cable of his headset nervously.

«Ah well...» Max answers unconvinced «You want to talk about it ?»

«Uhm...I- I don't really want to think about it right now ? I just want to take my mind off it.» he croaks out in a small voice, hoping Max won't notice how he is already almost fighting off tears at the mere thoughts of what happened in the last few days.

 _He won't cry, he won't cry,_ he repeats as he bites his own tongue and try to keep his emotions under control.

A beat of silence passes. Nervously, Lando sends an invitation to Max to join his squad in a CoD game, while he waits for his friend to answer.

«Man, this pandemic fucking sucks. I wish I could hug you right now, sound like you need it...»

«You ? Giving me a hug ? I think I'm already going through enough right now without having to endure this as well...» he manages to joke, hoping to distract Max from his obvious uneasiness.

«Alright, don't count on me to save you if you get shot !»

For the rest of the evening, he and Max plays together on their computer and Lando soon realizes the weight that has been resting heavily on his chest is starting to alleviate just a little bit.

Maybe it's hearing Max angrily rambles on and on about the cheaters they keep losing to. Or it's the simple fact that both their voice fills in the silence of his house for once that helps him calm his anxiety.

Or it has nothing to do with any of that. Maybe he just likes how playing alongside Max reminds him of simpler times. Ones where he spent his free time playing on CoD with his back when he was still in F2, _back when he nursed a gigantic crush on Max_ , he recalls fondly.

«-ndo ? You still with me ?» his friend's voice startles him back from his musings.

«Ah sorry !» he awkwardly says, realizing he's starting at his character's death screen after an umpteenth unsuccessful game «I think i'm getting tired...»

«Hey, no problem. Just go to sleep, okay ?»

«Okay mom !»

«Lando, just... Don't disappear on me like that again? » Max says softly seconds before Lando disconnects their call.

«I-...Yes, don't' worry, I'll call you tomorrow ?

«Counting on that ! Alright, sleep well baby !»

Once their call get disconnected, Lando shuts off his computer and takes a minute to enjoy to way his entire body feels less tense for the first time in a month. He revels in the warmth he felt when Max called him «baby», a habit the older driver took since last year once he saw how easily flustered Lando become when he called him pet names.

And for a moment, just a brief moment, he doesn't think about his mark.

***

The days that follow are just a little bit easier to bear with Max's voice keeping him company and allowing him to experience a semblance of normality back in his life.

At the same time, his schedule starts filling up as well as he FIA announces more race every day at the start of the summer.

Coincidentally, it's on the day of his first training session alongside Jon – his physiotherapist- that his resolve to not cry breaks. Turns out it was easier to keep up appearance when the only interaction he had with Jon were through zoom calls.

It happens 30 minutes into his training session on the bike though the small dales of Woking. Lost deep in his thoughts and trying to manage the pain flaring through his forearm, he's caught off-guard when Jon stops his bike to the side of the path.

«Alright, what did you do this time?» Jon doesn't wait to ask him, a concerned gaze directed to his forearm.

«Wha-»

«You keep massaging your left arm like it hurts. Is it because of yesterday's exercise ? I told you to lift those weights slowly !» he rambles. Lando, with his brain still navigating through a thick fog, doesn't have the reflex to pull out his arm from Jon's hands before his trainer pulls his sleeve up to inspect his arm.

«Lando ! How did you manage to hurt yourself there ?» Jon admonishes him, his face shocked as he carefully touches his forearm.

«I-» Lando doesn't know why, but as soon as he meets Jon's gaze any lies he had in his mind disappear. Instead, he feels his face crumbles and tears wells up rapidly in his eyes as he watches his trainer frets over him.

«Lando ? Does it still hurt ?» Jon's almost panicked voice asks him when he notices the tears that have now started to spill on his cheeks.

«I-I got it finally.» Lando only manage to croak out through his sobs.

«Hey, hey Lando let's sit down okay, you're not making any sense !» he says as he carefully helps Lando sit down and searches for something in his bag.

After gulping down the water bottle Jon gives him, Lando takes a breath and tries to dry his tears with the back of his hand but more spill over as he starts speaking.

«I-...I didn't burn myself. It's my mark. You remember ? I wanted it for so long and now I've got it !» he tries to say as his lips tighten in a forced and unconvincing teary smile.

Jon looks at him speechless and with his mouth agape «I-I-»

«You know the best part about it ? It's that I think it's completed. See that little patch of scar there ? At first I didn't see it, but it looks like it's the second part of the soulmark and- and» he stops, his words jumbling into each other while he gasps and his breath starts to become even more erratic.

«Shh-shh, hey Lando remember to breath, okay ? Follows the movement of my chest.» Jon orders him.

As he tries to follow Jon's instructions, he begins to rock himself back and forth, the motion calming him ever so slightly.

The fog in his brain dissipates slowly while he progressively controls his breathing. Suddenly hyper-aware of the weight of Jon's stares on him and how pathetic he must look.

«Sorry, I guess I'm just tired, I don't know what came over me.» he rushes out in excuse.

«We've talk about it already, Lando. If you keep your emotions for yourself for too long, it's bound to explode.» he reminds him quietly.

«I- I know. I've talked to Max.»

«You've told him you had your mark ?»

«No-no, he gets weird when we talk about soulmates. I just told him I was struggling...So we just...We play a few games and talk about the restart of the races, what he does in Monaco and he asks me if I've remembered to eat and stuff....It helps take my mind off, you know ?» he explains as he looks down the ground, feeling the tip of his ears redden.

From the corner of his eyes, he catches a small smile appears on Jon.

«Now you've got me as well, alright ? You're not alone.» he says before delicately taking him into his arm.

And as Lando rests his head on Jon shoulder, he can't help but feels another sob breaks through him.

 _You're not alone_ , those words echo in his mind as Jon leads him back to his house.

But it feels like he is.

***

After another set of weeks pass, he quickly realizes once Jon is allowed by McLaren to come by his house for his training sessions that his physiotherapist has suddenly transformed himself into some kind of psychiatrist.

And as much as he complains loudly whenever Jon arrives at his home with no training equipment and two warm cup of coffee in his hands, he doesn't think he'll ever be able to thank Jon enough for that.

So, with the help of Max and Jon, it gets just a little easier to look at his forearm. He packs his day with training, simulator work at McLaren, takes up streaming on twitch and talks daily with Max.

 _Anything_ , just to busy himself and avoid thinking too much.

At night through, his most pernicious thoughts comes back vicariously to bite at him.

It's as if his brain switches off to a darker place when his back hits his mattress. He just can't help it, but once everything around him become silent, his brain decides to fill the void. He starts thinking about stuffs he clearly shouldn't even allow himself losing time over. Musings that can only put him down, like when he starts wondering if his soulmate is just another person on the list of people that never saw him as anything more than a confidant, a friend or a little brother. Max was one of them, forever obvious of the fat crush he had ( _has_ , he corrects himself) on him.

The same happened for the crush he had briefly on Alex. And even if this one crush belongs to the past, it still hurt to think he's never been more to Alex than that geeky, younger driver who once had posters of him in his bedroom. So logically, his somber thoughts lead him to the inevitable question : what if the same happen with his soulmate ? Did he meet him and saw nothing but a goofy little dude, not worth of being a taken as seriously as a soulmate should, not worth of being loved ?

Drowning in those thoughts, Lando always ends of catching from the corner of his eyes the small orange gleam that shines underneath the scar tissues of his forearm. Each time, the sight feel like a punch in the gut, a reminder engraved in his skin that his life has been derailed from his normal course the moment he got his soulmark.

He would give up anything, just to see his mark like any other human can. He would give up even more to be able to feel his soulmate encircle his middle once again in his dreams.

Instead, as months pass, it feels like he's stuck in limbo. In a bed in Italy, Turkey, Germany, Portugal or even in his own home, it doesn't matter. He could be anywhere, at any hours of the night. No matter what, the deep sense of emptiness he tries to run away from during daylight will always end up catching up to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was left quite dissatisfied with this chapter. I've still got one chapter to write and I already have written one of the final scene. I'll try to find a way to write it that I enjoy more !


	3. Chapter 3

  
  


Sitting perfectly still in a comfortable chair, Lando takes a deep breath in. His palms are a little bit sweaty and his heartbeat remains irregular, betraying the aura of calm he's been trying to give himself. Frustratingly, it's now been twenty minutes he's been attempting to put aside all thoughts surrounding the reason behind yet another painfully long night spent tossing and turning in his bed. His trouble with his mark, the heavy weight it has put on his chest...It all needs to stay at bay during Grand Prix, it's the one rule he tries to stick to, no matter how difficult it is to follow it nowadays.

So, for the moment, all he tries to concentrate on is the picture of air flowing through his sinuses and how his lungs expand in his chest with it.

Five seconds pass ever so slowly. He eventually exhales and lets the hand resting on his stomach follows the way his abdomen shifts as the air leaves his lungs.

Another set of seconds pass once again before he allows oxygen to enter his mouth.

«Alright, and now I want you to slowly straighten out your legs and arms.» Jon's voice emerges through the fog in his brain. His physiotherapist marks a pause, letting him follow his instructions, before gently speaking once again «Once you're feeling stretched, you can slowly reopen your eyes.»

Lando allows himself a few more seconds where his eyes remains closed, a slight tinge of apprehension at leaving his headspace. Once he does, he's met with the impersonal grey walls of his preparation room. On his right, Jon observes him curiously.

«So ?» Jon asks after a small moment of silence «What do you think ? Does guided meditation works for you ?»

Feeling like a kid who visits the first time the doctor, Lando shrugs hesitantly.

«Yeah, I guess ? My mind feels a little bit clearer.»

«Good, very good. We'll add it in our training program, then.» Jon answers without looking up from the notepad he's writing on.

«Do I have any say in the matter ?»

«No, not really.» Jon rapidly answers as he finally looks into his eyes.

«It's just...It's like you're becoming my psychologist nowadays. Don't you want to focus on my fitness or something else ?» he mumbles as he shifts his eyes back to the walls.

«I can't do that if you're always on edge. Stress-induced injuries are something we need you to avoid. So, if you need to start doing guided meditation to stay healthy, I'm going to help you do just that. Not only because I want you to stay injury free, but also because I worry about you...»

Lando wants to protest for a moment, to argue that he isn't fragile or worse, _damaged._ Yet, he's never been a great liar and he's pretty sure his somber mood has been noticed by almost everyone in the garage. Fortunately, his team has attributed his changed behaviour to exhaustion and homesickness. The last few months have indeed been taxing and racing sometime 3 week-ends out of 4 during a single month has certainly not helped. Jon through, well he _knows_ and of course he worries.

So, instead of being indignant, he bites down his pride and just nods in approval at Jon while his cheeks heat in embarrassment.

«Alright, now you're on media duties for the rest of the evening with Charlotte. Just phone me once you're done and we'll drive back to the hotel, okay ?»

«Alright. Sounds good.»

«And if anything happens, you can call me and I'll come back earlier, okay ?» Jon adds with one last look just before exiting the room.

After that, he's lead by his press officer from one interview to another for the next two hours.

Once his last interview with Sky is over, he's on his way back to McLaren's hospitality when he's halted by Alex, who invites him to eat at the paddock's canteen.

George and Nicholas eventually join them.

For a time, they all talk animatedly about the two practice sessions of the day they completed. Despite the distance they are obligated to put between each other, a comfortable atmosphere settle around the four of them.

Yet, it's when Lando notices how George and Nicholas remains resolutely close to each other that he feels something shift inside his brain.

Nothing much has happened to set him off. One moment he is fiddling with his plate of curry rice, listening absentmindedly to what George has been up to during his week-end in Portugal. The next, he catches from the corner of his eyes the mark on Nicholas forearm. It's a beautiful one, a river flowing sinuously around his arm, delicate and elegant lily pads decorating its surface. A mark that Lando has seen on George for a few years already and that he has learned to observe on Nicholas arm as well since the beginning of this year.

And he wishes he was able to say the sight didn't provoke anything inside him beside happiness when he sees how content George feels next to Nicholas.

Yet, Lando is torn by a violent onslaught of a deep, angry and boiling jealousy. One that almost makes him want to physically separate the couple in front of him, just so he could wipe of the smile off their face.

And it's then that Lando is reminded that yes, someday he can almost trick himself into forgetting why Jon is worrying so much about him. But there's some other days as well, like today where the smallest details stop him from even daring to pretend all his fine in his world.

Suddenly, he feels his chest tightens when he realizes the weight of his thoughts, how uncharacteristic of him they are. His breath quickens and suddenly he needs to flee far away from there or else, he'll do something he'll regret. Before he embarrasses himself, he abruptly stands up and knocks his own empty glass of water in the process. Around the table, everyone turns to him. He pretends to not notice them and hastily cleans his place.

«Lando ? You're going already ?»

«Yeah, sorry, I just remembered I had a meeting soon. I'm already late, bye !» he rapidly explains, ignoring the weird looks his friends give him.

Once he's out of the canteen, his steps bring him to a backdoor exit. As soon as he opens it, he takes a long, deep breath of fresh air before he kicks a bin on his left in frustration. In the dark of the night that has already started to fall, no one notices him. He takes his phone out to ring Jon, but eventually decides to walk aimlessly around the paddock for a small moment, ignoring the drops of rain that fall on him.

To try to shake himself off from the resentment filling his heart, he walks in the many puddles he encounters and watches the fabric of his boots progressively soak up in cold water. He can't find any energy in himself to care though and his heart aches when he realized how bleak everything seems to have become around him in just a few months.

«So that's how it is now, spying on me ?» Max voices startles him from behind.

Taking off his eyes from the ground, Red Bull's logo stands tall on the motorhome his steps have lead him to. When he turns himself to face Max, he's met with the sight of his friend covered from head to toe in heavy clothes. Despite the mask covering the lower half of Max's face, he still can guess that he is smiling judging by the crinkles at the corner of his eyes. Immediately, Lando feels already a little bit more calm in his presence.

«Shit day for you I guess ?» Max asks when Lando still hasn't said a word «How long have you been walking under the rain anyway ? You're gonna catch a cold like that, come inside !» Max says as a frown rapidly appears on his face the more he looks at Lando's downcast appearance and he rushes him inside his motorhome.

«I- Are you sure it's okay if I come in ?» Lando asks eventually, as they walk by a few Red Bull's engineers who looks at him questioningly.

«Yeah, yeah. They won't say a thing, don't worry.»

Max leads him then on the second floor of the motorhome where they enter what must be his private resting room, judging by the mess surrounding every single parcels of it.

«Welcome to my humble abode !» Max declares as he flops himself carelessly on his sofa.

Patting the empty space left on his sofa in invitation, his friend busies himself in rummaging through a pile of his belongings. A shiver of cold seizes Lando, who suddenly realizes how uncomfortable the rain has indeed made him.

«There !» Max says as he pulls out a big sweater from his bag « My only non-red bull sweater ! Change in it or else you're gonna fall sick on me !»

Lando feels his cheeks grow red as he changes in front of Max, but he can't deny he does feel instantly better once the warmth material of the sweatshirt surrounds his chest.

«Thanks.» he barely remembers to say, his entire brain focusing not only on the warmth he now feels but the nice, characterizing smell of Max's perfume that clings on his sweater and that fills his nostrils.

«Always there to be of service !»

And while Max's attention shifts to opening a bag of chips, Lando discretely tries to breath more of the perfume surrounding him. Every time he does, an enticing deep rush of blood fills his heart to the brim. And if before he was submerged by a wave of jealousy at the sight of Nicholas and George's almost taunting happiness, now it's hunger that overwhelms him. A _famine_ , almost. For a connection, a link, a touch, for intimacy and everything that could fill in the hole in his chest.

Without thinking, he grips Max shoulder to catch his attention.

«Lando ? Is everything alright ?» his friend asks after Lando's stares hasn't left him.

« I just..I need-» Lando struggles to say, unable to put words on the fire that has started in is chest. Before he has time to think, Lando surges toward Max, knocking over his PS4 joystick. He wraps his arms around his friend, unable to stop himself from chasing the soothing sensation of being held by someone.

Max lets a surprised sound escapes his mouth. Not knowing what to do with his own hands before he awkwardly starts rubbing Lando's upper back.

When Lando remains resolutely mute and his breathing pattern becomes increasingly shortened, Max tries to pull himself out of the hug. Lando resists and his hold against Max get almost impossibility tighter. His hands, his chest, every nerves underneath his skin that receives the information he's in contact with Max feels like they was set alight in an almost painful way.

«Lando, seriously what's going on ? You told me to not ask too many questions I know but...You haven't been looking fine for months now.» Max admonishes him with a hard stare.

«I just...Please, I can't-» he struggles to articulate through his ragged breath. Max eventually manages to wriggle himself out of Lando's embrace and now lays both his hands on his shoulders to stare at him directly. Difficultly, Lando tries to ignore the twinge of pain in his chest as the Max's warmth leaves him too rapidly.

«I'm just so tired...» Lando lets out in a deep sigh and he feels tears well up in his eyes..

Only a warm, solid sensation against his chest bring him back to reality. Max has engulfed him back into a hug, draping both his arms over his back and soothing him as best as he can by shushing him gently.

«Tell me what's going with you, I don't know if I can help you, but just...Try it out for me ?» Max implores.

Not knowing which words to use to even begin explaining his situation, Lando lays one of his hand on his own left forearm.

With confusion written all over his face, Max starts to gently lift the sleeves of Lando's arm. Lando watches, almost paralysed, as his mark slowly unveils itself.

And like every time, even after staring at his mark for hours on end during the past few months, the sight of his mangled forearm still feels like a punch in the guts. At the same time, he hears Max gasps and when Lando tears his eyes off his forearm, he's met with the sight of his friend looking aghast.

«Not the prettiest mark you've ever seen I bet, uh ?» he tries to joke, not accustomed to people seeing his forearm when he keeps it under a bandage everyday.

«I-» Max croaks out, before one of his finger gently reaches Lando's forearm to brush one of the scars on his mark «What happened ?»

«Don't know, I got up one day and my forearm was like this...»

Max stares at him dumbfounded before his eyes focus back on his forearm. Ever so delicately, he follows the numerous scars marking it, as if to learn their contours with the tips of his fingers. Shivers soon starts to run across Lando spine. And for a strange, suspended in time moment, he watches as Max's hands roams down his wrist and up to the crook of his elbow, where most of his scars recover the golden gleam that still shines bleakly through them.

It's only then that they are both startled by the noise of the door of Max's room being slowly opened. Max and he both takes their distance, suddenly realizing how close they had been to each other, almost breathing the same air.

Prudently, a man wearing Red Bull's uniform passes his head through the door and speaks.

«Max ? Sorry to interrupt you, but we're waiting for you for today's debrief ?»

After a beat of silence, Max seems to regain his spirit and abruptly stands up «Ah yes, tell the guys I'm coming in a few seconds !»

«Will do !» says the man before disappearing.

Meanwhile, Lando attempts to dry the tears that had started to discretely leave his eyes and to overcome the sudden fatigue that weights him down.

«Listen Lando, we-» he begins before rubbing his forehead with one hand «We need to talk, I'll text you once my meeting is done and we'll figure out a time tomorrow, okay ?» Max says and for a brief second, Lando swears he sees a strange glint shine in Max's eyes, almost like tears. It must be the light, he thinks, because it disappears from Max's eyes a quarter of seconds later.

The thing is, when the next day comes, they both struggle to find any time at all to talk before or after the race takes place.

And Lando is glad they don't.

He doesn't want to talk about his soulmark, doesn't want Max's eyes to carry the same sorry, powerless expression like Jon does whenever the subject of his mark comes up. Not when what he always liked the most about Max, back when his crush on him was all over the place, was the determined, assured stare he had no matter the situation.

He doesn't want that to be taken away from him by his mark, not when it has already taken so much out of him.

He just yearns to go back to the way things used to be, back when he couldn't wait to get his mark and when he thought his life would make just a little bit more of sense then. He wants to have that someone in his life who can bring warmth to him whenever they touch, that someone who matches him in all possible way. He wants to look at his forearm and sees his skin engraved with an intricate soulmark, like George's or Alex's.

He wants it all _so, so_ much.

And sometime, it feels like it's the only thing Lando spends his days doing : wanting and not having.

***

Eventually, Lando can't run away from Max eternally. At least, that's what Max must have decided when he enters uninvited the McLaren garage two weeks later as the entire team and Lando are busy packing everything.

«Is it me or you're trying to avoid me ?» his voice makes him jump in surprise and drop the wrench he was holding.

«Ah- Max, fuck you scared me !»

«I really need to talk to you...» his friend reminds him, looking determined. Yet, it doesn't escape to Lando's attention that the way one of Max' hands fumbles nervously with the hem of his vest tells a different story.

Lando nods, trying to keep his face as neutral as possible «Ah well, we can do that now ?» he proposes, pretending to not notice the dozen of McLaren employees roaming around them.

With a deep sigh, Max seems to have grown tired of Lando's avoidance and takes his arm to lead him in the pitlane.

«Let's find a quiet place around here, alright ?» Max says gently as he looks around them. Unfortunately, between all the forklift trucks moving in all directions and the workers running around, the pitlane isn't much quieter than the garage. «The track will do.» he eventually decides as he guides Lando through the pit exit while navigating around multiples trucks and boxes.

After a few minutes, they starts walking the track backward and reach the grass of one of the last corner of the Portuguese track they've been racing on just hours earlier. Jumping over the track's fence, Max lets himself fall heavily on the bottom of a small hill.

«There, sit down next to me.»

Lando looks at the patch of grass Max is patting and he feels is hands grow sweaty, now that talking to Max seems unavoidable. «Come on, I've never bitten !» Max adds when he remains unmoving.

Lando startles himself from his trance and joins Max. He concentrates his attention on the workers on the pitlane who from the distance now looks like tiny dots.

«Had a nice race ?» Max asks, not put off by Lando's nervous silence.

«Eh, finished 8th. It's good I guess, points for the team and all that.» Lando shrugs as he starts playing with a few twigs of grass with his hands.

Eventually, an almost comfortable silence sets itself between them.

«I thought we were there to talk ?» he ends up asking after a few minutes have passed despite his nerves.

While he waits for Max to speak, he distractingly thinks about how nice tonight feels, almost like a nice summer evening despite how late into the month of October they are. If they were about to discuss any other topics, Lando would find this moment between the two of them appeasing.

«I got mine early on.» Max finally says as he breaks the silent between them. His voice is wavering with what Lando recognizes as incertitude. «I was like 15 and one day that was it. I knew someone else out there was tied with me for the rest of my life. And you know what I felt ?» he marks a pause, chuckling self-deprecatingly to himself « I felt scared of everything. The only constant in my life, in my future was racing and suddenly it wasn't just about me, you know ?»

Lando doesn't know what to answer. He thought he would do the talking and yet, Max is opening up to him about his own mark, a subject his friend has always been taciturn and distant about. Forgetting his own stress for a moment, Lando feels curiosity spikes in him at Max's explanation.

«And you know what I thought back then ? I told myself that just had to man up and start becoming better.»

«At what ?» Lando pushes questioningly, not following Max's line of thoughts.

«Everything ! Better at social interactions, better at taking care of other people, better at controlling my anger !» he lists off before his voice grows quieter « And I thought that some day, I would be ready you know ? Ready to just come up to my soulmate and introduces myself.»

Hesitantly, Lando grips Max shoulder reassuringly and for a time he feels guilt courses through his body for not realizing before that Max was struggling as well.

«But I don't think I'll ever be fully ready, you know ? All this time I thought about me, me and me. When I'll be ready, how I'll introduce myself, what I would say ! You don't know how many days I spent wishing I could just erase my mark, because I couldn't understand how I could be good enough ! And during all this time, you were just-» Max says agitatingly, before taking his face in his hands.

«I'm sorry Max, I- I shouldn't have brought the subject of my mark so often before...If I had knew you we-»

«No, no you don't understand !» Max interrupts him, visibly frustrated before he starts lifting his own left sleeves, revealing to him his mark.

Lando always thought Max's mark was an intricate and complex design, mirroring the complexity of his friend. Yet, the mark engraved on his skin is nothing like that, Lando realizes. It's an elegant one but it's simple in its design. The first thing that catches his eyes is the little cloud floating rapidly around Max's arm, as if it was almost excited to be seen. Then, his eyes lingers on the vibrant red of the sun resting on the crook of Max's elbows. Small yellow burst of energy appears on the ever-changing spiraling surface of the star. For a moment, Lando remains silent, captivated by the simplicity of the mark.

But then, he can't help but be distracted by how strangely familiar the soft gleam the star emits is. His breath hitches when he finally realizes where he's already observed it.

Not believing what he is seeing, he hastily tries to lift his own jacket, but his trembling fingers make him struggle for longer than necessary and he decides to unzip his jacket and throw it off carelessly next to him.

When he finally manages it, he looks at his own forearm, putting it just next to Max.

«It's-..You're..» he stutters, unable to articulate together any sounds and looking back and forth between their marks and Max's face.

As if to be sure he's not dreaming it all up, he forgets all kind of manners and touches the sun on Max's forearm, wondering if it's possible he'll find the same gentle warmth emanating from it.

And against all expectations, it doesn't feel the same than when he touches his own forearm. No, the heat that courses through him seems more concentrated, almost all encompassing, as if a blast of fire just roamed through his entire body.

For an impossibly short moment, or one that lasted longer than an eternity, all that Lando can do is stare on his own fingers brushes against Max's mark while his heart beats doubles his speeds.

A small gentle and repetitive motion on his hand eventually brings him back to reality and calms him down. It's Max's hand against his, feeling soft and grounding.

«I'm sorry.» Max says, crossing briefly his stare before shifting his eyes nervously elsewhere.

«Wh-Why ?»

«For not telling you earlier, for...For your soulmark.»

«I-...Max, you're ?» he tries to ask, unable to form a full sentence while he struggles to comprehend what this all means.

«I'm sorry.» Max repeats.

«I don't...I'm not sure I understand this right ?»

For a moment, Max doesn't say a word, his eyes now shutting themselves as he tries to blink away a few tears. Meanwhile, Lando struggles between the utter incomprehension and the wave of hope that washes over him.

 _Is it possible that his soulmate, the person he's been waiting for so long, is sitting just centimeters next to him ?_ He almost doesn't dare to ask himself, afraid that even entertaining this possibility would instantly ruin it all.

«It's you.» Max says with a fond expression on his face, pointing out to the small cloud that lazily floats around his forearm «That little cloud...Always there to cheer me up...»

Relief, confusion, exaltation, tiredness ; Every emotions hit him at once as Max's words engraves themselves definitively inside Lando's brain.

Inside him, a myriad of indescribable sensations submerge him. His vision swims and he has to support himself with one arm against the ground as if he could lose balance despite being sat already. Only Max's hands and concerned gaze allow him to anchor himself to the present time, bringing back his attention to his mark.

_So that's how his own was supposed to look like since the beginning ?_

«H-Hello me, then...» Lando whispers in a sound that resembles both a cry and a laugh as he traces the shape of the little cloud, emotions mixing together in him while he grazes the outline of the cloud as if petting it.

«I'm there now.» Max whisper before hugging him.

In response, Lando struggles yet again to find words, his vision blurring as tears falls rapidly on his cheeks.

Around them the spotlights of the track shut down.

Yet, neither of them move. When Lando decides to finally turn his gaze toward Max, he notices awestruck that both of the sun's on their forearm shine with a renewed blaze. So much that his soulmate's face is lightened up by the gleam they emits together.

A smile tilts ever so slightly the corner of his mouth while he admires the golden tint reflecting on Max's face. With his right thumb, he delicately brushes Max's cheeks to dry the few tears that have left a trace on his face.

«I'm not alone.» he wonders outloud in a whisper, still in disbelief.

 _My soulmate is sitting next to me and our hands are touching,_ Lando thinks in a daze.

«You're not. You've never been, even when I was too into my own head to see I should have been next to you.» Max says, with a certitude that echoes deep into Lando's chest.

And as dumbfounded and lost as he is, Lando decides to believe him.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Wow, this is my longest fic since 2019...Was not expecting that !
> 
> I would be really thankful if you left a comment or a kudos :)


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